


You Pulled Me Into the Atlantic

by runningsissors



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:45:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningsissors/pseuds/runningsissors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s like the sensation of getting hit by a Mack truck every time he feels her. It’s a force of nature; a hurricane that knocks everything out of him, leaving only the bare structure of himself intact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Pulled Me Into the Atlantic

**Author's Note:**

> written during S1 in 2010, so some aspects are no longer canon.

01\. 

 

His fingers still twitch; the pads still tingling with a phantom sensation of touch. It’s been just shy eight years since he last felt anything other than the dull numbness that consumes his entire body.

 

Eight years. Eight years of nothing. Not the spray of the sea against his face, the bite of the frost on his windshield on a cold winter morning, not the warmth of Jess’s hands as she held him so close.

 

Eight years. Eight goddamn years, and then suddenly an explosion.

 

He feels a thousand things at once. He feels her breath on his cheek, the soft glide of her lips on his skin, the hair that brushes him as she moves. Feels every sensation stored in his body being released at once - like a cage of butterflies released in a room. Or a billion atoms combusting all at once.

 

Think the invention of coloured television. 

 

Think that red bike on Christmas morning.

 

Think the biggest miracle to happen since the creation of earth, and then times that by a million.

 

Think Nathan Wuornos feeling anything at all. 

 

 

02\. 

 

He hears the heavy click of her heels as she rounds the corner, a small grin on her face when she catches sight of him.

 

“Need some help?” she motions through the glass, pointing to the tie slung around his neck which just moments ago he had been struggling with.

 

He shrugs, dropping his hands and stepping back to make room. She walks into the office, the fabric of her black dress brushing against the very top of her knees as she grabs at the tie.

 

“You know, Parker,” Nathan says as she pulls the dark fabric through into a loop, “I can actually do this myself.”

 

“I can see that,” she deadpans, a smirk on her lips. “I’m surprised you even own one of these. Formal ties don’t exactly go with khaki and jeans. ”

 

His lips twitch, a tight crooked smirk threatening to take over. He goes to say something, the words on the tip of his tongue when he stops, it all getting caught in his breath when her fingers brush against the skin on his neck. 

 

He freezes, his heart pounding against his ribs. Her fingers are light against his skin, her breath warm as she tightens up the knot and folds down his collar. 

 

“What, cat got your tongue?” she teases, taking a step back and folding her arms under her chest. Her smile falters, her brow rising when she looks at him.

 

“You okay?” she asks softly, “you look... off.”

 

He feels his head nod slightly, his brain switching out of auto pilot. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “I, uh, just hate funerals.”

 

Audrey sighs, taking a perch on the corner of her desk as he grabs his jacket hanging over the back of his chair. He fists his hands, stopping quickly to take a deep breath when his back’s to her. 

 

“I’ve never been to one,” she says, moving off the desk and leaning against the door frame. “No one I felt close enough to pay my respects to has ever died.”

 

“You must not like much people, then.”

 

She turns her head to him, a sad glint in her light eyes. “Yeah,” she says quietly, “something like that.”

 

 

 

03\. 

 

“We honour the memory of Eleanor today, but we do not say farewell. There is a bond that is not affected by the dissolution of our body, nor the passing of this age...” 

 

A cool wind blows through; at least he assumes from the way the others around him shiver and pull their jackets closer to them. His fingers twitch again, lightly brushing against Audrey’s. He snaps his hand back, his breath getting caught in his throat.

 

It’s like the sensation of getting hit by a Mack truck every time he feels her. It’s a force of nature; a hurricane that knocks everything out of him, leaving only the bare structure of himself intact.

 

He glances at her quickly and catches the glassy quality to her eyes as she watches Julia lay down flowers at the grave. He smells the chamomile and honey in her hair, and the soft, musky perfumed scent that clings to her skin.

 

He wants to touch her again; feel the jolt of life she gives him every time it happens. But he’s scared; scared about what will happen when it eventually goes away, and it will go away because it always does. Nothing good ever stays with him for long.

 

Then that hurricane; that incredible force of nature hits again, making his knees buckle and heart stop. His hand is wrapped tightly in hers; their palms flush against each other as he hears her sucking in shaky breaths. He wants to comfort her somehow, but he’s never been good with things like that, and she’s not the kind of woman who wants to be coddled.

 

So he just stands there, hand entwined with Audrey’s, and prays to God that somewhere out there Eleanor is laughing at them both.

 

 

 

04\. 

 

“Got a call ‘bout some illegal lobster poaching in connection to your supplier. Not that I’m surprised.”

 

Duke sets down the crate in his arms, wiping sweat from his brow. “Well don’t you just spread sunshine and happiness where ever you go. And tell me, detective Wuornos, just how do you do it?”

 

Nathan grits his teeth, his arms crossing tight against his chest. “Just answer the question.”

 

Duke hauls another crate off the cart to his left, dumping it down onto the ground beside him. “I have no damn idea what you’re talking about. Now if you don’t mind,” he motions to the large number of crates still waiting to be moved, “I’m kind of in the middle of something called running a business.”

 

Nathan frowns, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, all right.” 

 

“Oh, and by the way,” Duke calls back as Nathan makes a move back up to the truck. “I apologize. I didn’t know. I mean, I guessed something was up with the way you were so _un_ you when she woke up at the hotel. But I didn’t know, you know?”

 

Nathan turns on his heel. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

Duke gives a look, that... that almost reminds him of pity. He feels hot anger flush through him. The last thing on earth he wants is for a low lifelike Duke Crocker's pity. Like he somehow knows what Nathan is going through, like he could somehow comprehend how he feels. 

 

“I’ll back off.”

 

“I don’t kn-“

 

“Don’t be a dumbass, Nathan,” Duke jests, giving him a pointed look, “or I’ll change my mind and I won’t feel bad about it.”

 

 

05\. 

 

“-I can make a phone call to Vince and Dave. Maybe they’ve got a story in their records somewhere of buildings disappearing.”

 

She goes to move from her perch on his desk, but he stops her with the clutch of his hand on her wrist. A ripple runs through his body. The storm’s brewing hard as ever.

 

Her brows furrow and she glances at his hold on her wrist, “what—”

 

He slides his hand down, entwining their fingers together and squeezing gently as she stares at him with a bewildered expression. “Parker, I need to talk to you about something,” he mumbles.

 

And the waves crash against him.


End file.
